In the Long Run

The child, who had a round, cherubic face, rosy cheeks, and wisps of blonde hair, was dressed in a green sleeper, and wrapped in a multi-colored blanket. I could not be sure whether the baby was a boy or girl.

Knowing the frustration my daughter-in-law feels when, despite dressing my granddaughter in frilly, pink outfits, and gluing little bows in her hair, The Little Princess is called a boy, I thought I’d diplomatically get this mother to reveal the child’s gender, without my having to bluntly ask.

“So how old is your baby?” I politely inquired, hopeful that the answer would come in complete sentence form, beginning with the all-important identifying pronoun “He” or “She”.

“Three months,” Mother politely replied. “Ah…so sweet!” I gushed, only momentarily stymied while inwardly formulating my next question, which I posed cunningly to the baby [itself]:

“And what’s your name, you little cutie?” I was confident the mother would immediately respond with the name that would allow me to continue the conversation and correctly refer to the child as a boy or girl, as if I’d known all along.

“Lorimer," Mother announced proudly. OK, sounds like a boy name, I thought, but it’s trendy to give daughters what have been traditional boys’ names, so I am not really sure still. “I don’t believe I’ve heard that name before. Is it a family name?” I ventured. Surely Lorimer’s mother would have to call her child “him” or “her”, or say “he” or “she”, sooner or later.

“It’s the name of the man who married us,” Mother divulged.

“Oh, I see!” I nodded, even though I really didn’t see it at all. “And…was that his first name? Or last name….?” Come on, Mother, give me something to work with here!

“His last name,” Mother replied. “We liked the man, and we liked the name, so that’s what we decided to name the baby.”

Argggh! I gave up. “Lorimer, you are such a cute little baby,” I cooed. “Goochie, goochie goo”.….whether you’re a boy or a girl.

Posted by Cyppy at 5:34 PM